


the old nursery

by Anonymous



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, just like...bittersweet? Idk, mentioned Martha Wayne, not fluff not angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 06:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: tumblr request: Damian learning Bruce had a unicorn named Biscuits.(in which i disregard canon and make it about a stuffed animal instead)





	the old nursery

They had been looking through the old nursery when they found it. An old photo, framed and slightly faded, of a young Bruce Anthony Wayne barely a year into life.

“You had a big head!”

Bruce scoffed a laugh.

Damian snapped his eyes up to look at him. “No no, you see,” he hurried to explain, “so did I. Mother knew it must have come from somewhere. She thought perhaps her mother’s side but…” His gaze returned to the photo. “We ought to have known it came from you."

Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets, stepping closer to his son. He examined the photo. He wasn’t an ugly child, but the size of his head was rather ungainly. “I did have a big head.”

“You still do."

"Easy there, slugger.” He chucked his son’s chin. “You’ll hurt my feelings."

Damian smirked, but his mischief cleared up in an instant. "I’m sorry then, Father. Only please know it was just an observance, nothing more. As I’ve said, I have a big head too.”

Bruce hummed noncommittally. He turned the boy to face him, clasping his chin and turning his head every which way. He only stopped when Damian could withhold his patience no longer and grimaced. Bruce almost grinned. “You’re looking more like your mother everyday,” he said after his inspection.

Damian’s interest faded. “Yes,” he said in a clipped tone, turning to face the photo once again.

There had been a misstep here, but Bruce wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

They observed the photo for several minutes, lost in their own thoughts. Bruce’s were mired of Damian, his words, the deeply furrowed brow, the way he had been growing so quickly that his elbows and knees stuck out like a fidgety colt. He hadn’t always looked so. When he had first joined the household, he was barely tall enough to reach the bathroom sink. Bruce hadn’t noticed much then how small his son actually was. Must have been his large personality, he thought wryly. But even still, Damian had been nine when Bruce first laid eyes on him. He had been even smaller before, and Bruce had never seen it. He clenched his fists absently, grinding his teeth.  
He had missed his son’s childhood.

Damian’s thoughts, in the meanwhile, had not been so dark.

“What wretched thing are you holding in your arms?"

Bruce blinked. He squinted at the photo. "I believe it was a stuffed unicorn.”

“A stuffed unicorn?” The boy’s voice was incredulous.

“Her name was Biscuits."

“Biscuits,” repeated flatly.

“My mother gave her to me."

"Oh.”

Bruce laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. “From what I can remember, I had pneumonia. I had to stay in the pediatric unit in the hospital. My father was there, of course, but she still worried. I had to receive oxygen therapy and,” he paused. “I was rather a sickly child. She…I was only a year old. I can’t imagine the stress she was under. She always did her best to…” He cleared his throat. “Anyways, she brought Biscuits to the hospital as a ‘magic cure’ and soon enough I was home."

Damian tilted his head, considerate. "Do you still have it?” he asked.

Bruce turned to look at him. “I’d assume so,” he said, thinking about it. “Most of my old things are in the attic.” His hand was still on Damian’s shoulder. He used the other to ruffle his hair, ignoring his yelp. “I would have given it to you, probably,” he teased.

Damian pouted, batting Bruce’s hand away. “I would have had no need of it,” he said haughtily. “Mother wasn’t a proponent on childhood attachments.”

Bruce’s hand slid off his son’s shoulder. “No?” he said faintly.

“No, I never–” Damian halted. He smiled a little, meeting Bruce’s eyes almost shyly. “Well. You know Mother. Always exacting."

"Yes."

Damian, uncomfortable with how he had brought the conversation to a halt, twisted on his heel and walked to the other side of the room. "You think you’ll keep the wall color?"

Bruce watched him. "That was what Selina was hoping to ask you,” he said, walking over. “She thought it would be nice if the baby’s room had something from everyone. Barbara’s knitting, Jason’s making a toy box, I don’t know what Tim and Cassandra are going to–”

“I’ll make a mural,” Damian decided.

Bruce’s breath stuttered. “You will?” he said after a moment, voice a tad rough.

Damian surveyed the area, then met his gaze. “Of course,” he said, clucking his tongue. “On one condition."

He almost rolled his eyes. This boy and his bartering. If it wasn’t patrol, it was animals. If it wasn’t animals, it was missions. Hell, he even tried to barter out of punishments! (And often won, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that.)

“And what is that?” Bruce asked, leaning his elbow against a rocking chair.

Damian raised his eyebrows. “Find Biscuits and give her to the baby.”

Bruce stared.

Damian hunched his shoulders, worried he had overstepped. He never quite knew what was or wasn’t acceptable, even after several years in the household. “So that Nana can add to the room too,” he continued, firm despite himself. “I think…I think she would have liked that.”

Bruce beckoned to him suddenly and Damian walked over hesitantly. Once he was less than a foot away, Bruce tugged him into a hug.

“I agree,” Bruce murmured into his child’s dark hair. “She would have liked that very much.”

Damian nodded faintly, fisting his hands into his father’s sweater. He closed his eyes and sighed, relaxing in his hold.

Then:

“Too tight.”

“I’m sorry, am I squeezing your big head?”

“Fath- _er_!”

**Author's Note:**

> the baby can be anyone but i was thinking Helena Wayne 
> 
> also i had a white stuffed unicorn named Toast and adored her so that was a fun coincidence


End file.
